When You're Not Sure If It's All Worth It

Most of the time I like to have everything figured out.  I like to know where we’re going, what we’re doing, and when we're going to get there.  More often than I like to admit I like to rest in comfort and safety.

This was another one of those I-don't-want-to-do-anything-hard days.

We're driving down Highway 101 and Mark sees catches a glimpse of that grand Pacific.  It woos him in every way.

We swerve off the highway to see if there’s a path down to that grand ocean view.  We hop out of the car and I see nothing, so I hurry back.  Meanwhile, Mark wanders.  Five minutes later he pops his head out of those Oregon green bushes, “I found one!” 

This is not the comfortable, uneventful morning I was hoping for.  But I appease him.  The least I can do is check out the path.

First he bring me to this.  Wandering into a bunch of bushes ain't no thing in Oregon, right?  

Yes.  This is the "path" he found.  

Then we come to this.

I’m not so sure.  That's too far down.  There's not enough landing space.  I have no-traction boots for landing. That's too steep.  I’ll fly right down the hill.

Mark beckons and I leap to his held out hand.

Then this.  This is a terrible picture, but it's a straight down shot with little foot grip and a bunch of slick rock for the landing pad.  I'm not exactly excited.

I'm not gonna do it.  I can see the view from here and it’s just fine.  Remember?  I’m just ready for rest and beauty.  The condo with the view calls.

Mark finagles his way down.  “It’s not that hard!” he yells up from below.  I come up with every excuse in the book.  I just don’t wanna do it.  The view’s good enough from here.

“But you’re sooo close!”  I don’t care.  See, I’m close.  “Won’t you regret not coming down this one last part?  It’s prettier down here.”  Dang it!  Fine!  I catch my boot on the stump and scrape it like I knew I would.  I awkward finagle myself down the cliff, reaching root to root, and dirt pile to rock, then leap.  I master the cliff and turn around proud.

Wow. 

The rocks are slick and we’re sliding everywhere.  It doesn’t matter though.  The beauty is worth every scuff mark and nervous jump.  I find the perfect rock seat to cozy up and take it all in.  As I sit quiet I hear God’s voice gently roaring at me in those waves.  All is well.

Mark races around, climbs to the farthest rock, hops tidepools, then runs eager to my side.  “Do you just wanna make it to that waterfall?" he spits out like an excited kid in a playground, "it’s the last place we haven’t been!”  

All I see is this field of large, jagged rocks and the ocean sweeping over any hope of a sand pathway.

The only way to get to that faint waterfall is right over top.  

I hop up on the first rock and pause a moment to feel out which rock is my next best step.  I carefully maneuver to the next one and pause again.  That’s where everything starts to click.

Sometimes in life we just have to take one step at a time.  Sometimes one day at a time.  Sometimes one hour at a time.  Just take each thing as it comes and trust God will meet us there in each moment.  I don't have to have the whole plan of how I'm going to get there.  I just have to take each step as it comes.  

One boulder by one boulder, and one step by one step I meet the waterfall mist.

So much beauty.

Isn’t that how life is?  God’s been speaking these grand dreams, these too-big-for-us visions and sometimes (much of the time) I am overwhelmed.  When I see the end picture I can’t possibly imagine how we’ll ever get there.  I’d rather be comfortable and safe, stopping somewhere toward the middle, or even the beginning of the journey.  

The cliff jumps and forging bush pathways isn't easy work.  Sometimes it's intimidating.  But the end was far more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined.

He will be with you every step of the way, and when you get to the end goal, you’ll be so glad you did.

Just one cliff, by one jump, by one conquer, by one day at a time.  That’s how we have to do it.  

Don’t you think that’s how those heroes in Hebrews did it?

“Abraham moved without knowing where he was going.”

One step at a time.  Just do what Jesus tells you in that day, in that season.  All those “movings” will add up to something grand and glorious.

For decades Noah faithfully built a gigantic boat.  One step by one step, until he boarded his family on that massive thing and saved them all.

A city isn’t built in a day, and neither are your God-dreams.  One step, one risk, one conversation.  You've got this.  You, me, all of us, we’re all slow moving forward to the grand vision God has called us to.

The risk, the pain, the scuff marks, the hours, they are worth it for such a grand view.

Song for the Journey - Let this be your heart's encouragement and prayer:  Kari Jobe “You are for me”
I know that you are for me // I know that you are for me // I know that you will never forsake me in my weakness

When You Feel Ill-Equipped

Do you ever feel like the task, the vision God’s given you is too big, too daunting for you?

Me too.

Sometimes it’s the smaller tasks and sometimes it’s the bigger vision.  It can seem overwhelming, can’t it?

He says, “I want you to speak at such and such,” and all I can think of is a million reasons why I’m not the person for the job. 

I don’t know the culture of the people.

I don’t know what I’d say.

I’m not good at speaking.

Or He shows us a picture of this big vision we’re headed towards.  It’s exhilarating and exactly what we were made for! …But it’s daunting and defeating all at the same time.

Overwhelmedness washes over me and “you’re too small” lies begin to slam me.  I run through my list of excuses and slink down in despair.  I don’t know where or how to start.  Then I hear His gentle whisper, “Remember David?”

David.  The little guy.  The one who everyone said was too small for the job.  The guy who didn’t have military training, or right-fitting equipment.  He didn’t even have the proper weapon for the job.  It was just him, and those little stones, and a crazy faith in a God who said He would conquer. 

Though “untrained” he was perfectly equipped.  Though people believed he couldn’t, he believed God could.

‘Cause here’s what David knew and what I need to cling onto:

If God asks you to do something, you’re the right person for the job.

If God says you’ll conquer the giant, you’re going to conquer the giant.  He’s going to make it happen.  All you have to do is show up.

Show up.

Take the next step.

Do the thing He said to do.

Say you will speak.

Conquer the giant.

Move toward the vision He said He would fulfill.

God told His kids that He, (yes, HE) was going to conquer the giants.  The “conquer” was not dependent on their skill, their training, their equipment, their strength or their numbers.  Their victory was reliant on God who said “conquer,” and a guy who believed Him and showed up for the match.

If God asks you to do something, you’re the right person for the job.

YOU are the one.  God knew your “smallness” and He sees your not-equippedness, and your million excuses, and it doesn’t scare Him one bit.  He always thought you were the right one for the job.

‘Cause with Jesus entire cities are conquered with a shout and a trumpet blast.  Raging seas are stilled with two simple words.  The tiniest and the “least significant” are the mightiest and the most effective.  

In Jesus, with Jesus, nothing is impossible.  By His hand you can do anything He has called you to do.